


How Much Does Your Love Cost?

by ThereWillBeCubes



Series: Yandere Free! [3]
Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Tachibana Makoto/Nanase Haruka, Possessive Behavior, Yandere, Yandere Nanase Haruka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-10 00:18:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3269702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereWillBeCubes/pseuds/ThereWillBeCubes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Haru is a lord's son who becomes enamoured with a certain servant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts folder for about a month and a half now, finally decided to finish the first half properly. This really is a I-wrote-whatever-came-to-me fic, so it's disjointed and awkward but I just wanted it done. The title comes from Thelma Plum's song, she's an amazingly talented Aussie musician. I listened to it a lot while writing this.  
> Enjoy c:

Green eyes, like precious gems, like the sunlit leaves in the forests. Hair, so impossibly soft, a gentle brown, falling across his forehead like water. Such a lovely, kind face, smiles I had spied, infectious and cheering to those around him.

I liked this one, I liked this one very much.

His beautiful, strong body belied a sensitive, easily-frightened character, one in others I would have found weak... irritating.

It only endeared him to me, as I watched him, secretly, at first. No one could tell me where to look or who to behold, as a future lord, but I enjoyed observing him, without his knowledge, watching the way he would work and talk and smile, god, that smile. I would think about him as I ate dinner, as I bathed. Was he fed well? Did he have enough time to clean? Was he comfortable here?

It was not enough, one day, simply not enough, and I knew my assistant had become... uneasy, when I had the staff subtly shifted; he was still a stable-hand and gardener, but now I had him in the gardens I frequented, cleaning my rooms, assigned primarily to my horses.

Did my ever-hovering assistant notice the way my eyes would immediately look for him when I entered a room, the flash of frustration when he wasn't there, or how I could not look away when I spotted him? Maybe not at first, but he was not unintelligent, and eventually he began to pick up my habits, the one I would be seeking out.

“Master Nanase,” he would say in his clipped, stern voice, “is something troubling you?”

But he was there more often than not, now, and I felt at ease whenever I knew he was near me. I felt happier knowing he was here. What could Rei say to me? That it was not good for me?

I liked looking at him, no, I liked _him_. This kind, lovely boy with forest-eyes. 

I knew his family name was Tachibana, I had heard it shouted, I had seen it on the staff lists.

But I didn't know his name.

 

-

 

It's late spring, the estate cloying with thick pollen and cut grass, the air turning from balmy into true warmth. I didn't mind, now I could swim without Rei fussing over possible illnesses and chills and what have you. I loved to swim, and in the winter months all I could do was soak in my bath and wait for the heat.

I padded down to the pool, my pool, really. No one else ever used it. It would be left alone entirely if not for my insistence that it be useable. I was alone, telling Rei he could have a break to read, or whatever he does in the time he isn't watching my every move.

The sunlight is deliciously bright, clear, not milky or soupy, but almost clean. I take a deep breath, relishing the air, it smells of the vague border between spring and summer. It's familiar.

I am so wrapped in my excitement of finally swimming again I don't even notice from afar that someone else is already there, by the edge of the pool, peering in.

My heart stops, because I would recognise that broad back anywhere, those brown locks just covering his neck. He is leaning on a shovel, and I hear him humming some sweet tune; I don't move as he kneels and delicately puts a hand in the water, sighing to himself, swishing it around.

He stands again after a minute, wiping his hand on his shirt. I take a steadying breath as he begins to turn, and I step forward, hoping that I look like I am in mid-walk. He stiffens when he spots me, clutching his shovel for support as his eyes widen in horror.

I don't expect him to bow so deeply, stammering apologies.

“You're... Tachibana, correct?” I said quietly, trying to keep my breath from floundering and fluttering.

He looks surprised, straightening.

“Ah- ah, yes, that's right, Master Nanase,” he stammered, bowing again, his cheeks a delicious pink, “Makoto Tachibana.”

_Makoto._

I wanted to roll the name on my tongue, I wanted to give it breath. Makoto, it was sweet, delicate. It was perfect. He was looking at me in confusion, worry. I didn't like it, I wanted his face to be carefree. I realised I was staring, and that my impassive mask rarely comforted.

“I'm glad you appreciate my pool,” I said, for it was the first truthful thing that popped into my head, “not many around here care much for water.”

While he still looks conflicted, a small, warm smile lights his face. I can feel my heart melting in it's gaze, I can feel it on my skin. The afternoon sun is pure, shining, framing his face, those beautiful eyes...

“Master Nanase!”

Rei's voice rings out; I stifle a flare of pure annoyance as we both look at him, jogging across the grass, holding a book why isn't he reading the book?

“What is it?” I snap, and Makoto shuffles awkwardly, bowing.

“I'll return to my work, Master Nanase,” he says, and in moments has rounded the large bushes by the water, disappearing from sight. I grind my teeth as Rei gives me a determined stare.

“Master Nanase, I really don't think you should be talking to that boy,” he says in disapproving tones.

“It's none of your business to tell me who I can and cannot speak to,” I bite back, feeling incredibly agitated. I was finally talking to him! Talking to... Makoto. Rei still holds my gaze.

“But your stable upbringing is my business, Master Nanase, and pining over a servant-”

I turn on my heel, unable to look at him; how dare he.

I submerge myself, flitting around the water, but it doesn't soothe my mind today. I can think of nothing but speaking to him again.

 

-

 

I recline into the bath, watching the ripples break across the surface. I run a hand over my pale calves, frowning a little. Hours of observing him, taking note of his tanned skin, the powerful, corded muscle from years of physical labour, the way his hair lay across his head, shapely nose, eyes, lips... I felt so incredibly inadequate next to him. I run my hair through my fingers, watching the water bead and drop from the ends, a thin black mop, an uncommon colour, but otherwise not noteworthy. My stomach is flat; when I press it is not entirely soft, but it isn't toned either, and the same is true for my arms and legs and chest.

I frown, sinking into the bath until the water is up to my mouth, the water pleasantly warm. My body feels frail, too thin. Unbidden, a voice murmurs that maybe that isn't so bad, and an image of Makoto holding me in his arms rises, wrapped around my thin shoulders, lovingly, protectively. That the warmth around me is his warmth, shielding me from the unnecessary worries of the world, taking the place of water, but so much more, whispering love in my ear, and my heart thumps painfully as I am dragged back to reality.

I cup water in my hand, letting it run in rivulets down my ivory skin. I'd overheard people talking about me, at dinners and social functions I was dragged to. About my apparent beauty, but until now, it had simply irritated me, had simply brought on unwelcome company from the daughters of other lords and ladies, who made vapid conversation and giggled at my monosyllabic replies.

Was I beautiful? Poems and novels waxed lyrical about the eye of the beholder; what did Makoto think when his eye fell on me?

The arm falls back into the water with a muted splash.

The water is cold when I finally drag myself out, and as I dry myself off I scrutinise every spot of skin, I can barely think straight. It always ends like this when I begin thinking of Makoto, and when I exit the bathroom in a daze, Rei notices right away, eyebrows tightening with unhappiness.

“Master Nanase?” he asks as I sit by the window, staring out into the gardens, “you were in there for some time... is everything alright?”

“Am I beautiful?” I ask, and he goes pink, and by his expression I wonder if he's trying to figure out whether I am joking or not. But he knows I don't joke.

“You- you would be considered quite beautiful by most,” he finally stammers.

“Hmm, you aren't just saying that,” I muse, hand propping up my chin.

“N-no, I have- you must have had others tell you so, Master Nanase,” he says, looking quite disconcerted.

“Only young women,” I say, frowning, and Rei seems to have a little revelation.

“That servant, again,” he says, tiredly, “Master Na-”

“Don't,” I snap, and while my usual response would be to tune him out or leave the room, I feel my own self-doubt is enough, I don't need his too, “I don't see why you disapprove of him so much.”

Rei seems surprised that I've directly confronted him, but he recovers quickly.

“Because he is one of your parents' servants, he is a commoner, and this... obsession, Master Nanase, it will only bring you pain.”

My response is to glare, but he holds my gaze with an even expression.

“And I suppose you also feel disgust that I feel this way about another man? You simply cannot say so to my face,” I hiss. I feel a slight swoop of shock when Rei goes a little pink, looking at his hands.

“That is not true, Master Nanase,” he murmurs, but his voice hardens, “but you cannot change the fact he is simply below you.”

I have the strangest urge to laugh as incredulity and shame burn through me. Never before have I felt so inferior to anyone, and I've spent my life in the petty swirl of politics where inferiority can be ascribed by saying a word out of turn. Never have I cared more.

I don't say another word to him about it, he simply doesn't understand.

 

-

 

The stables, Rei would not check the stables first. I careen though a side door, huffing a little in my long shirt. Why did they insist on such clothes in the warmer months? I slide the sleeves up as best I can, slumping onto a bale of hay. Horses nicker and whinny, but other than that, it is at least peaceful. The stable master is nowhere to be seen, and for that I am glad. One less nosy person to bother me.

I was sick of Rei and his irritating questions, his knowing glances and sighs, I just needed space without someone hovering over my shoulder. Dinner would be soon, and it would be then that he would truly be annoyed with me, calling out all over the house, maybe even piquing the interest of my ever-prim-and-proper parents.

I was deciding if I actually cared or not when a loud, boisterous laugh sounded at the other end of the stables. I stood slowly, peering around. Through the partially-open door, I could see two figures sitting outside. A laugh sounded again, this one more of a bark, and I frowned.

Carefully, quietly, I edged to the last stall, empty, with the door standing open, and ducked behind it. “Ahh! Be more quiet!”

I freeze, and yes, I can see the figure on the right is him, sitting with long legs stretched out, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. The person on the left is shorter than him, but not by much, dressed in similar clothing, and the orange quality to the light brightens his already-warm hair, almost glowing. His grin is wide and sharp as he stares openly at the boy beside him.

“Gah!” Makoto says, covering his face, “why are you looking at me like that?”

The other boy laughs again, smile growing even wider.

“The question is why you aren't looking back? I have pretty eyes, too, you know!”

Pretty eyes? This is not just friendliness, is it? Is it?

I keep by the stall door, watching. The tall redhead, the one exuding confidence, leans over and slaps Makoto on the back, laughing.

“Mako!” he says, _Mako, he calls him Mako,_ “we're getting out of here, you know, one day. We can go to the ocean, become sailors! See the world!”

From here, I can see Makoto's face, the left side, as he turns and smiles at the other boy. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and his mouth opens just so...

“Rin,” he laughs, “I think you're getting a little carried away.”

Rin huffs, flicking back his hair. It's long, flowing, red, like fire. _I hate fire._

“I don't see why not, Mako,” he says, and Makoto's face goes soft, sad, “two big guys like us could easily get a place on a ship.”

Makoto's face suffuses with sadness. I feel a strange tightening in my chest as the other boy, this Rin, reaches out and takes Makoto's hands in his. I stare as his pale fingers curl around Makoto's tanned ones.

“Mako,” he says quietly, “we can leave one day, really. We can see the world together.”

“I, I can't, Rin.”

Makoto's beautiful head shakes a little, and I want to reach out, drag him away from that other boy, the one causing him pain. I want to soothe his shaking shoulders, touch his cheeks, caress his hair...

“Your brother and sister will have to support themselves eventually, Makoto, they're growing up,” Rin says, firmly, “and when they can, you can finally do something you want to do.”

Green eyes meet red, Rin's mouth set in a slight smile and Makoto's twisted in bitterness.

“I just... don't want to leave them,” he mutters.

“It won't be forever!” Rin laughs, and the tightening in my chest turns into something else, something consuming and burning and terrible as he puts his hand on Makoto's cheek, “and I know they want you to be happy.”

Time seems to slow as those filthy, unworthy fingers draw Makoto towards him, and as their lips touch I want to scream, my heart writhing. No no no no no!

“I want you to be happy, I love you,” Rin murmurs, but I can barely hear him, not through the blood rushing in my ears. Makoto smiles, and this smile I have never seen, soft and affectionate, a different kind of smile, the rarest of them all.

“I love you too, Rin.”

I can't bear it anymore. My feet lurch forward, and I run, as fast as I can, away from them, and before I know it, I am running towards the pool, stripping my clothes as I go. As my shirt is flung off in contempt, I feel wetness on my face. I skid to a halt, pressing trembling fingers to my cheeks. I'm crying.

I find myself quite unable to stop, hot tears seemingly endless as I feel sobs rising in my chest.

I am on my knees, cobblestones making indents on my skin, when I hear Rei's surprised voice yelling out to me. How I must look, half-naked, weeping. I find that I don't even care, because nothing matters, because Makoto will never look at me like that. I had spoken only terse sentences to him, short and cold and detached in manner and voice, what did I expect?

Light, cautious hands touch my shoulders.

“Master Nanase? Are you alright?” Rei's voice says somewhere above me, concerned and uncertain. Did I look alright?

“Makoto,” I mumble, before I can stop myself. I feel Rei's fingers tighten, very slightly, and he sighs.

“Young master...” he says quietly, and I don't like the pity in his tone. Pity agrees with me. Pity pats me on the shoulder and tells me to move on, that there is no hope.

No, I don't like pity.

“Tachibana is a servant, it would be a good idea... to stop entertaining thoughts of him.”

I stand up, swatting his hands away. I settle on him a glare, but he had the temerity to look unfazed, to look, sympathetic!

“Move,” I hiss, and he steps out of the way as I stalk towards the welcoming water. I ignore his cry as I fling off my pants, entering the water, begging it to soothe me as it always did.

I could only think of fire.

 

-

 

“Master Nanase,” I look up to see my tutor frowning for the third time this hour, “if you would pay attention, please. It will be easier if we can get through the material without interruption.”

I sit up a little straighter, taking my gaze from the window with some difficulty. It provides some view of the grounds, and I had recently taken to looking for a particular person to appear amongst the servants. My teacher has noticed, and her usual kind, easy streak has taken a turn into stern and unforgiving.

“Apologies, Miss Miho,” I say, in what I hope is an abashed tone. She turns back to the map she has spread out; one with lines and little green pins. She could not have picked a more distracting colour.

She continues her lesson, but as she describes trade routes and diplomacy I feel myself slipping away from her voice, simply staring and taking the odd, scribbled note.

I flick my eyes to the window, fighting the wave of disappointment when I don't see him.

Finally, after what seemed to be an age, Miho picks up her books, bowing and reminding me I should read the texts she's given me. I nod in return, and she leaves.

“Oh! Hello!”

Her voice was coming from the hall, conversational and warm. What it might be if I bothered to respond to her friendly questions and patience. I pause.

“Oh, good afternoon, Miss Miho,” replies a voice shyly, and I move closer to the door, my heart beginning to pound with excitement, “it is nice to see you again.”

“And you too, Makoto! Have you grown even taller since the last time I saw you?”

“It's only been a few weeks, I shouldn't think so,” stammers Makoto, and I can imagine the blush on his face.

“Have you been reading that book, dear?”

“Oh, yes! I have, thankyou again for it,” Makoto says, sounding pleased, “I've been reading it to my brother and sister, they enjoy it too. They said to tell you thankyou.”

“My pleasure, Makoto,” she replies, and I feel approval welling in me; Makoto sounds so... happy.

“Apologies, but I should get to work, Miss Miho,” Makoto says softly.

“We must have another lesson soon, Makoto, come by my room whenever you'd like.”

“Um, uh, thankyou?” Makoto splutters, and Miho laughs.

“Aha! Oh, dear, I forget you are still young, sometimes,” she says cheerfully, “but if you'd like some more reading material, do visit.”

Makoto lets out a little groan when she leaves, and I press my hand to my mouth, breathing hard. I try to ignore the sudden rush of heat that surged to my stomach at his embarrassment, as his mind went to... _that._

I walk back to my desk, opening a textbook, hoping the mind-numbing effect will distract me from my discomfort.

It fades, but I feel the shadow of dissatisfaction it leaves behind.

 

-

 

Sunday.

It was swelteringly hot, the noon sun merciless as it beat onto the cobbles and the gardens. My mother and father were not home; their position often called them away. They did not want to bring their standoffish, moody son, one that simply stood near bodies of water and stared impassively at anyone that tried to speak to him, to a social function. That suited me just fine.

Most of the staff were in the servant's quarters, no doubt trying to cool off, with only a smattering picking over the already spotless rooms. I felt free to wander, and I decided to walk around my favourite garden, one with ponds and fountains, nice and quiet. Private.

Coralling my thoughts was difficult. I found it even hard to relax in the water, while it could silence the world, it could not silence the chattering in my head, the painful pounding of my heart.

I looked up, and stopped in my tracks. My eyes widened as I took in the sight of Makoto standing by the large fountain, scrubbing away; his shirt short, displaying his tanned, muscular arms. His face was one of concerted effort, frowning as he scrubbed a little harder. Several emotions seemed to be pushing through my chest; affection, excitement, jealousy, betrayal. But that was unfair, whom had he betrayed? To betray he would have to know...

Makoto bent over, still cleaning, and I could see he was leaning a little too far. He realised too; his eyes going wide in surprise as he tumbled.

“Eeep!”

I watched as he fell in, face first, followed by his chest and stopping at his waist, legs waggling in the air.

After only a moment, I rushed over, wrapping my arms around his waist, trying to ignore the excitement at finally touching him, pulling him out. He spluttered and spat as his head exited the water, and with a heave, he fell over the side, back onto dry land. He coughed into his arm, shaking, and I laid a hand on his shoulder, pressing down, trying to halt his trembling.

I was unable to speak as his head looked up, and I was suddenly aware of how close his face was to mine.

“Master N-Nanase!” he spluttered, looking at me in surprise, before red flushed him, from his collar to his ears.

“Thankyou, thankyou!” he said, looking mortified, standing up, and bowing deeply. The back of his neck was red, and he dripped water all over his semi-dry trousers.

“Yo, Makoto?”

My eyes instantly narrow as a familiar redhead rounds the hedge, clippers in one hand, the other pushing back bright strands from his face. He spots Makoto, soaking wet and mortified, and his eyes travel to my damp shirt, resting on my face in frank curiosity.

He then bursts into laughter.

“I can't take my eyes off of you for two minutes, Mako!” he guffaws, showing off a row of unnaturally sharp teeth, “didn't I say not to lean too far?”

He grins, stepping forward. I unconsciously narrow my eyes further into a glare, and he notices it before I replace it with my usual impassive gaze. He is in no position to mention it, however, and simply lifts an eyebrow as he comes to stand beside Makoto, his little bow almost an afterthought.

“Master Nanase, I apologise for my friend's carelessness,” he says, holding in laughter as Makoto huffs, shooting Rin a mock-glare, “it shouldn't happen again.”

“S-Sorry!” Makoto stuttered, glancing at the fountain. I shrugged and tried to keep my breathing even and my steps easy as they parted, allowing me along.

Rin's howls of laughter followed only a few seconds later, and I turn my head to see him clutching the rim of the fountain for support, crying with mirth. Makoto is bright red, shakily returning to his cleaning. I keep walking, trying to look unfazed, looking at the flowers.

“You made it worse Rin!” Makoto says with a groan.

“Hey, _I_ didn't fall in and have the lord's son pull me out, you got his nice clothes all damp! Ahaha!”

“Oh my god, I don't think I apologised, I should go apologise!”

Hope flares in my chest, followed by a pleasant anticipation. Makoto running after me, looking for me.

I almost stop, to wait, but Rin takes Makoto again, with his carefree words.

“It's fine, Makoto, really,” he says, “besides, you need to finish this work!”

I don't think I've disliked anyone more than I dislike the redhead at this moment.

 

-

 

I stare at the array of paintings and sketches before me. I only take these ones out when no one is watching me, when I am sure I am alone. I trace a finger down a rough drawing of a turned head, the owner looking over one shoulder, his eyes and mouth suffused with cheery happiness. A coloured piece next to that one has a hand extended into water, watched by sparkling green eyes. A dozen sketches of various states of work, weeding a garden, brushing a horse, lifting a load of wood. I sigh, shuffling them together and sliding them into a drawer.

I was supposed to be working on a painting of the gardens, and already a sea of varying greens was upon the canvas, dotted with violets and rose.

My hand stills as I mix paints, for I can hear a familiar voice, singing a sweet tune softly, from the sitting room behind me. I will my heart to slow down, my hands not to shake as I continue to work, but I am too full of excited anticipation.

I force myself to face the canvas as I hear his footsteps behind me, and the singing abruptly stops. I turn, seeing a mortified Makoto staring into the room. He bows as our eyes meet, going red.

“G-good afternoon, Ma-Master Nanase,” Makoto stutters, “my apologies for disturbing you, I can, clean this room later, if you wish...?”

No, I don't wish that at all.

“Good afternoon, Tachibana,” I reply, “it is no disturbance, I assure you.”

He nods, giving me a nervous smile, and I pretend to go back to work, slowly adding points of colour. But for the most part, I watch him; as he carefully dusts and wipes the windows, my heart warming involuntarily at his gentleness. He soon circles around, and I feel him come to a stop.

He makes a little noise, and I turn to see him peering at the canvas.

“You can come closer, if you'd like,” I say softly. _Stand as close as you'd like, Makoto._

He nervously picks his way over, sidling around to have a proper look. If he looked down, would he see it in my eyes, how my heart beat for him and him alone? His profile from here only heightened my excitement, especially the swoop of his neck, tanned and lovely.

“That... really is beautiful, Master Nanase,” he murmurs, his face full of wonder. I feel myself go warm at the praise.

“You think so?” I ask softly, watching him hungrily, as he smiled and nodded.

“I- I don't know art, but, I- I know what beauty is,” he stammers, tilting his head, his hair moving ever so gently as he did.

“Do you want me to draw you?” I ask, and he goes bright red. I thought he would.

“I- uh, really?” he said, blinking, “I'm not really a good subject... don't waste your time on my account.”

He says it so honestly. How could he not think himself beautiful? Didn't he say he knew beauty?

“Sit here,” I say, patting the seat in front of me, and when he looks unsure, I try to smile for him, to reassure him. He looks guiltily from me to the bookshelves he was cleaning.

“They can't get any cleaner, it's fine,” I murmur, and he sits down, rather awkwardly, blinking as I put up a new sheet of paper.

“Just look at me,” I say quietly. He looks, catching my eye, and smiling and blushing when I lean forward, gazing at him. My hand pauses at his shy, earnest expression, the light pink sprinkling his cheeks, lips turned upward so softly. I smile again, and this time, it is genuine.

“Yes, just like that.”

 

-

 

He quivering slightly, but I stroke a hand over his skin, slightly damp with sweat, from his pectorals to his abdominals, soothing him. Green eyes find my face, nervous, but when I go to sweep his lovely hair from his forehead they soften, becoming warm. I could get lost in them.

“It's alright, love,” I whisper, and my heart thumps as I press a kiss to his lips, and they are as gentle and sweet as I imagined; he tastes of rain and honey.

“Makoto,” I murmur, becoming a little more rough, pushing my tongue past his lips. Our breathing becomes quicker the more we kiss, and I feel his hands, so large, yet so careful, running over my bare back. My heart continues to pound with excitement and happiness as he moans lightly, and I feel heat surge in my stomach, feeling dizzy. We are on my bed, I recognise the dark blue satin sheets, the pillows, the curtains undrawn. The rest of the room is suffused with candlelight, indistinct and warm.

“Agh,” Makoto gasps, as I feel a hardness press against me, mirrored by own desire, and the sensation is innately pleasurable, I realise I want more.

I grind against him, going purely by instinct, and I feel too restricted by my pants, trying to remove them with one hand, using the other to tangle my fingers in his hair, to keep tasting Makoto, desperate in my need.

“Haa-” my heart jumps in a shock of excitement. I wait for the rest of my name, I want to hear him moan it, I have never heard him say it.  
“Makoto,” I breathe against him, loving his warm skin and flushed face and gentle hands and everything, I loved everything about him, “you can say it, please, say my name.”

“Haah,” he simply repeated, and my stomach seemed to drop, the light disappearing abruptly, because he had never said it, _he had never said it-_

 

I gasp; back in my bed, my real bed, covered in a sweat. I look around, wildly, stupidly, for Makoto, but of course he is not there. No, he is mostly likely asleep, no doubt with that other one, that Rin. An ugly lump forms in my chest at the memory of the two of them, so casual with another, able to be so close. I grapple at my blankets, feeling them bunch as I clench my fingers. I didn't understand. Alone was preferred, alone was what I wanted. Now my bed felt empty, cold, lifeless.

Or maybe I did.

 

-

 

“Master Nanase?” Rei asks tentatively the following morning. After a sleepless night, I must look a sight, nibbling only slightly at my breakfast. The terrace is nicely warm, I feel as if I could finally slip into sleep in the sun. My blue-haired attendant looks worried, but he always does, to some extent.

“What is it, Rei?” I ask putting down my toast. It tastes unpleasant, anyway.

“About the Tachibana boy...” he says, sounding extremely anxious, and I sit up, really giving him my attention now.

“What about him?”

“I- I heard from the head of staff that, well, he's requested a leave, I don't know for how long,” Rei says quietly, and by the time he's done speaking, I am consumed by a wave of panic. _Going? Where, when, for how long? Will he come back?_

“W-when?” I stammer, and Rei looks deeply disconcerted as he looks at me, “tell me!”

“This weekend, I believe,” Rei replies, “I thought I would tell you, so that you would stop constantly watching for him.”

Rattled, I try to eat to brush him off, his irritating comments, but if it tasted strange before, it was akin to ash in my mouth now.

Makoto leaving.

I had never been one to think about the future; it held my parents attempting to groom me, maybe an arranged marriage, eventually inheriting the estate. Lifeless.

Makoto made me feel more alive than I ever had.

He only leaves for the week, but is almost agonising, knowing he is not around, so suddenly aware of the fact one day he may leave for good, forever...

I don't want to think about it.

In my free time, I uncover the unfinished painting, running my eyes over it hungrily, marvelling at his beauty.

I touch my fingers to a cheek, imagining the real thing, wondering if his skin would be as warm as his smile.

Why didn't I... find out?

 

-

 

Makoto fidgets. I guess that it is still from guilt; and I feel a tad annoyed. I have already told him it is alright. I am almost done, anyway, though I still don't think I have done him justice. The sparkle of his eyes, the softness of his hair, the curve of his jaw, I have tried, but nothing can compare to the real thing, sitting across from myself and my easel. Every time he catches my eye he blushes and a shy smile forms on his lips. I try to catch it as often as possible.

“I'm almost finished,” I murmur, adding another tiny point of light to the irises. He smiles.

“I'm just not used to sitting around for so long, I guess,” he says sheepishly, tilting his head.

“With a brother and sister, no doubt you aren't.”

“Mhmm! I told you they were twins, right? You've probably forgotten, it's not important, huh?”

No, Makoto, I did not forget. You have a younger brother and sister, twins, an aging, sickly mother, a dead father. You have little other family. In my presence, you call Rin your closest friend, but I remember the very tone of voice you used when you said his name. I remember you speaking of a cat that you'd see before living here, of once tasting chocolate cake from a friend at the bakery, that it was the best thing you've ever eaten.

“Master Nanase?”

I blink, and see that he is looking, slightly worriedly, at my face.

“Are you- alright?”

I nod.

“I am fine.”

I make the final touch, just the barest hint of pink on his lovely cheekbones. He blinks as I smile from him to the canvas, putting down my brushes and paints.

“All finished,” I say, “you can see it now.” He suddenly looks nervous.

“A-alright...”

He slowly stands, shuffling over to me, and as he stops, ever so near, I hear a little gasp.

“Ma-Master Nanase!” he whispers, leaning forward. I can hear him breathing, I can feel his heat. I am treated to the underside of his jaw as he stares.

“It's incredible,” he murmurs, “how is it so beautiful?”

He looks at me in wonder, eyes shimmering.

“Y-you're so talented,” he says, beaming, face so so so close to mine, “it's... so perfect.”

Heart pounding, I reach my hands up. He freezes as I lay my hands on either side of his face.

“You're perfect, Makoto,” I murmur, and he doesn't move as I press my lips to his.

My eyes close as I taste him, his lips are the slightest bit chapped, but he is sweet. I do not see him pull away, but feel the sudden lack of pressure, my hands gripping empty air. My eyelids fly open; Makoto has backed away from me slightly, shaking in shock, his eyes round. I stand up, hands reaching towards him, and he stumbles backwards, falling onto the lounge.

“M-Master N-N-Nanase?” he questions, voice trembling violently. I feel the hot surge of frustration as I drink him in, looking so confused and afraid, what was I doing wrong? Maybe I hadn't done enough...?

I lean over, so that my face is near his, stroking his shuddering cheeks, running my fingers through his hair.

“Mako...” I groan, and he freezes again as I lightly kiss his jaw, drawing away to look into his eyes, his beloved eyes.

He wriggles to the side, shaking uncontollably, eyes darting around. I take his shoulders, before a stroke of inspiration hits me. I straddle his lap, my heart thundering as I wrap my arms around his shoulders.

“Wh-what are you doing?” he whispers, “please, I don't- I don't understand-”

I press against him, desperately, arms holding him tight as I breathe in his scent, face in his neck. His breathing is too erratic, too shallow. I realise he might be close to hyperventilating.

“Shush, shush,” I murmur, taking his hair through my fingers, “it's alright, Makoto, it's alright.”

“Please, Master Nanase, I- we can't- can't do this-!”

I gaze at him, his eyes pricked with tears; this is not what I had imagined. Was he wracked with guilt? Over Rin? I had not thought about that. Well, two can play at that game.

“I love you, Makoto,” I say, and he goes completely still.

I wait for him to say something, anything, because he can't just leave it at that, but there's something especially frantic about his breathing, the way his eyes have blown wide. He's not looking at me anymore, he's looking past me; over my shoulder.

I slowly turn my head to see, not Rei as I had expected, but my mother, a handmaid at her side, both with thunderstruck expressions. Mother recovers quickly, her shock smoothed over by a coldly impassive mask.

“Haruka,” she says, her voice ringing with authority, “what is this utter foolishness?”

And suddenly, I do feel foolish indeed. I should have waited, I should have let Makoto closer before I did this, and by his frozen limbs and shellshocked face, I wonder if I have done irreparable damage. I slowly untangle myself, standing by the lounge, and Mother looks at Makoto with an expression of deep disdain.

“You,” she says, and Makoto springs up, throwing himself into a deep bow, “who are you?”

“Ta-Tachiba-bana, your Ladyship,” Makoto whispers, shoulders shaking, and Mother's lip curls.

“Go to the servant's quarters immediately,” she orders, and Makoto shakily leaves, his legs shuffling as quickly as possible.

I feel a sweeping cold as he leaves, as Mother turns her ire back to me, and when she speaks, her voice is low, cold as ice.

“We're going to see your father.”

 

-

 

Father's study is just like him; large, imposing, and full to the brim with useless shit. He almost never raises his voice, when he gets truly angry his voice becomes a hiss, a cold, insidious hiss, promising terrible things to come. He's shouted only a few times. I wonder if he will today.

“My own son, a pervert,” he says icily, “a man that enjoys the company of other men.”

I say nothing, letting his words rush around me, like they always do.

“Your own mother catching you, no less,” he continues, eyes narrowing, “speaking of love and desire, to a common servant boy. Disgraceful.”

I stare blankly at him, not even bothering to stand properly. My skin burns beneath the surface, I can remember every inch of where my skin pressed against his, I can still see his eyes in the sunlight. I do not care what my father says, I want to see him again, to show him it's alright. He was in the servant's quarters, right? I could go there, see him. Apologise.

“A servant boy that will no longer work here, of course,” he says, and a cold smile lifts his lips as my attention comes racing back to him.

“What?” I ask, disbelieving.

“Did you really think your mother and I would allow that filth to continue working here? Being paid from our coffers, as our only son cavorts with him? Haruka, you cannot think we would allow that.”

God, I was so stupid.

“Haruka, you will get rid of all and any fantasies of that boy,” father says quietly, “he has already been sent from this house.”

He sounds satisfied; for once he has a response from me that isn't an irritated huff. I can't stop my hands from shaking, my breath from coming in short gasps.

“You've been spoiled, Haruka,” Father continues, “allowed to do as you wish for too long. You are going to learn some responsibility, some respect.”

Mother is standing silently to the side, nodding her head, and I feel an unfamiliar surge of dislike for them both, talking of responsibility, when they most they took was to pay Rei.

I feel my eyes narrow, and Father narrows his right back, not blinking.

“You are approaching marrying age, Haruka, and you will act as such,” he snaps, “whether you like it or not, you will be marrying an eligible young _lady._ ”  
The last word is acidic, his disgust apparent. I didn't want a woman, and I didn't want another man either.

_Oh, Makoto, I'm so sorry._

“Until you learn proper respect, you are forbidden to leave the house, but for lessons and social events,” he continues, “and you will attend _all_ events we are invited to, do you understand?”

“Yes, Father,” I say quietly, but the loss of the gardens and pool is almost nothing now.

“You shall not speak of the Tachibana boy again, and you will tell no-one of what happened.”

“Yes, Father.”

His face twists with dislike, and he waves a hand.

“Go to your room, Haruka, and stay there.”

When I arrive, I immediately go to find the painting, but the unpleasant forboding in my heart already tells me what I dread to think.

It's gone, and quick glance shows that the drawer full of my sketches stands open, empty, and finally, I feel the impact, the terrible, terrible truth, darkness swallowing my heart.

I sink to my knees in front of the empty easel, tears sliding silently down my cheeks, not moving even as my legs go numb. I have nothing to remember him by; and while my thoughts are already embedded with his image, it does not calm my sorrow.

Makoto is gone.

 

-

 

I move in a daze. I wake up, almost feeling his absence in my chest, a creeping cold that tightens my breathing. I barely eat breakfast, the food constantly bitter and unpleasant, and I drink enough water to stave off thirst, but I no longer enjoy it's sweetness. It reminds me of Makoto, nausea rising in my stomach as I remember his hitched, anxious breaths, the terror in his face as I made my childish move. Any trust, any comfort between us, gone, because I could not help myself. Not that it mattered, because he was gone, too. He was not coming back.

I didn't even try to pay attention during lessons anymore, and after a few tries, Miho gave up on her gentle reprimands and offers of help, simply running through, leaving with a sad smile each time. I usually remained at my desk, staring sightlessly at the gardens I was forbidden from visiting. Rei rouses me as dinner approaches, and he seems almost frightened now, hands ghosting my shoulders, but never touching, as if I were mist that would dissipate at a touch.

“Master Nanase,” he would whisper, he whispers now too, his breath might disturb the fog, “your parents are waiting.”

They were true to their word, taking me to balls and dinners, but if I was indifferent before, I was nigh unapproachable now, but it simply made the events more bearable. I didn't even dislike these people any more, not like I once did. Disliking takes too much effort.

My father takes it as evidence that I am utterly spoiled, that I am throwing a tantrum, trying to scare people with my muteness and apathetic front. If I cared, I might answer that it was no front, but I didn't care. He didn't matter. Nothing did.

Makoto was gone.

Summer continues pass, and even the desire to once again visit the gardens fades; I don't paint, I don't draw, I take baths only after prodding and nagging from Rei. Everything is slowing, turning indistinct, greyscale. Nothing is worth doing.

One day, I don't even see the point in leaving my bed. At least I don't have to move in bed, and sleeping is the only thing I enjoy doing.

When I dream, Makoto visits me again.

And then I wake up, alone.

 

“Master Nanase,” Rei whispers, pulling back the curtain, and weak, cold sunlight streams in around his tall frame. My stomach hurts dully; I've never been actually hungry before. I thought it would hurt more. Rei's face is suffused with worry, but there is a jumpy anxiety as he looks quickly around; that is odd. I turn my head towards him, and he leans in, holding out a trembling fist.

“H-here,” he says, opening his fingers, dropping a crumpled bit of paper onto the covers. My eyes flick to it, and I freeze as I see some of the script upon it.

_-ibana resid-_

I sit up, smoothing the paper with a shaking hand, staring at the words. It's an address. It's _his_ address. I look up, uncomprehending. Rei swallows nervously, wringing his hands.

“Y-your grandmother, I believe s-she had words with Lord Nanase, about... about you...”

Grandmother. The odd one out in our family, the poet, the free spirit, the embarrassment. It was no surprise to anyone that she came to favour me; we were the contrary pair of the Nanase clan. Of course she'd understand, without even speaking to me, how I felt. I felt a surge of emotion in my chest, energy slowly returning to my limbs. Could I go see him? Apologise? Rei picks something up from the dresser; it looks far more official, a seal at the bottom of the page, and I recognise the signature, graceful and flowing. I take the document, staring.

“Her- her estate in the east, she's giving it to you in her will, young master, but... she wishes for you to live there, as soon as you'd like,” Rei continues, “there were other things, but she wanted to tell you personally. She's here, if you'd like to speak with her.”

I skim the paper; indeed, it is in my grandmother's hand, explaining her decision to gift such a thing to her favourite grandson.

“I don't... understand...” I murmur. That was all well and good, I would feel slightly better not being in my parent's huge, empty house, and talking with someone that might understand-

I sit bolt upright, staring at a few sentences by the bottom of the page.

_In addition to the estate, I also will provide an allowance for two added house staff, to attend to Haruka personally._

My heart stops in my chest, and as I look from one paper to the other, I put the pieces together. Rei would be one. Two could, _would_ be...

“...Makoto,” I finally croak, holding the paper almost reverently.

Energy surges through me, and Rei moves silently away as I throw back the blankets. There were finally things to do, worthwhile ones, finally, purpose.

“How soon can we leave?” I ask, scanning my room. It would not take much to move my possessions; I only really needed clothes, my art supplies.

“You will have to speak with her Ladyship, but I am under the impression it will be as soon as possible, Master Nanase,” Rei says quietly as I pace restlessly, running avenues of approach in my head.

“I will take a bath,” I tell him, “prepare some suitable clothes, Rei.”

“As you wish, Master Nanase,” he replies, inclining his head.

I need to collect my thoughts, watching impatiently as the bath slowly fills with hot water, stripping off my clothes in agitation.

But even as I slide in, my mind buzzes with excitement, pushing away the memories of our last meeting; my doubts.

_Makoto, Makoto!_

He will know how sorry I am, that I never wanted to hurt him, lovely Makoto, the only one that mattered...

I could barely wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part finally done, it's pretty damn long.  
> Enjoy C:

 

 

The young girl's eyes are so like his, just a shade too blue. They stare at me from the doorway, slightly narrowed, and I see a boy hovering behind her; his hair close, that soft brown.

“Can I help you?” she asks Rei shortly, for a girl no older than 12, she exudes an energy, poised and ready to strike. So unlike her brother.

“We are looking for Makoto Tachibana,” he states politely, “he does live at this address, correct?”

Her expression goes from annoyed to suspicious, giving us another once-over. When she speaks, there is a warning note in her voice.

“He is at work,” she says, “who are you?”

“I am Rei Ryuugazaki, and this is Master Haruka Nanase,” Rei replies, and I watch the boy with Makoto's hair look shocked, running up to his sister's side, tugging on her dress.

“Didn't big brother work at Nanase's?” he whispered into her ear, clearly unaware everyone could easily hear him. She tersely nods, still staring at us.

“He _did,_ ” she replies, the last word positively dripping with venom, “until he was _fired._ ”

They are such a strange pair, the girl with her now poisonous glare, the boy looking so sad. Rei opens his mouth, but she bursts into angry words.

“Why was big brother fired?” she demanded of us, and I have never seen those eyes gleaming with such fury, “he worked so hard for you! He could never come home, because he worked all the days no one else did! He missed Mama and brother and I so much, but you all kept him away!”

Rei looks shocked, eyes flicking from her to me. No one has ever yelled in my face but my father. Both annoyance and admiration rise in me; she clearly loves Makoto. But mostly annoyance.

“He didn't tell us why,” said the boy behind her shyly, but his face is determined, “why was he fired?”

“That is a private matter,” Rei says, looking quite flustered. I was growing increasingly irritated. Makoto was not here, so why was I?

“Where does Makoto work?” I ask, meeting her gaze with my own. She doesn't back down, lip curling.

“Why should I tell you? All your dumb estate has done is make big brother tired and sad all the time! Just leave him alone!”

I blink. Tired and... sad? I thought he would be happy to have his job back. With a stab of embarrassment and discomfort, I realise that I was hoping he would be happy to be near me, too. Ha.

“Big brother works at the lumber mill, now,” the boy says suddenly, “but you shouldn't disturb him there. It's a dangerous place to work.”

“Why is he working there?” I mutter, and the girl looks furious.

“Big brother needed to find a job quickly, and people are always leaving the mill, because it's a difficult job,” the boy says sadly, “people get hurt all the time. But there's no one else to earn money... so he does it.”

“Why do you even care?” the girl snaps, pushing her brother back, “go away! Stop bothering him!”

She slams the door in our faces. Rei looks utterly dumbfounded, mouth open, reminiscent of the fish I would sometimes have for dinner.

“Young.. master?” he asks awkwardly, searching for my reaction. I simply turn on my heel, crunching back down the tiny path, and he hurries after me, carefully shutting the little gate behind us. Anger, embarrassment, upset, all twist and meld together, and I clench my teeth as I think of what to do.

“Hey! Hey! Excuse me!”

I turn to see a man, almost of Makoto's height, waving at us, crossing the tiny street. He has strawberry-blond, flouncy hair, and a sly, easy grace, like that of a cat, even his eyes seeming sharp as he takes us in.

“Did you say you were Nanase?” he says cheerfully, and Rei gives a little harrumph, no doubt insulted for me at his dropping of my titles.

“He is Master Haru-”

“I am Nanase,” I interrupt, feeling my eyes narrow, “why? Who are you?”

His face falls from cheerful to calculating, all veneer of friendliness dissipating.

“Kisumi Shigino. You heard them, stay away from Mako,” he says, coldly, sneering at me. _Mako? Yet another stranger that knows him so?_

“I wish to offer him his job back,” I say levelly, wanting for Rei to just shoo this commoner away. Kisumi scoffs.

“Why? So you can just _play_ with him again?” Kisumi asks, looking disgusted, “so you can take advantage of his kindness?”

Agitation rolls off of him in waves.

“You're the reason he was fired in the first place, Nanase, and when he finally gets settled again, you come to his home, where he is free of you? Pathetic.”

“I love him,” I say, very quietly, but this doesn't seem to surprise Kisumi, not one bit.

“Many have said the same, men and women alike,” he replies, “but they don't bring him any happiness, they only desire him.”

I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to snarl at him.

“You might be the, _highest,_ ” and he says this word with such contempt, “-of his suitors, but all the more reason to end this. It cannot end well, or cleanly. You'll only hurt him.”

He takes my furious silence as perhaps not acceptance, but that I might actually be considering his words. I... was, and I didn't like the way Rei's face sagged with sympathy and agreement.

“You don't even care that he's _already_ in love, do you? And it's not with you.”

With a contemptuous huff, he walks away, right back into his little house, leaving me humiliated, burning. Aching.

“Shall we... return to the estate, young master?” Rei asks tentatively, glancing to the coach, “lingering here is not a-”

“We are returning this evening,” I say, hating the wobble in my voice, “I will see him.”

Rei doesn't shake his head, or sigh, but his eyes are tinged with sadness as he looks at me, holding open the door.

“As you say.”

 

-

 

The area is much different in the night. It is not the brightly lit avenues and roads of the well-off, but it has a warmth all the same as we rattle down the rough cobbled streets. Lamps stand at irregular intervals along the streets, and the curtains ooze gentle light, hidden life, not on ostentatious display, but humble, quiet. I ask for the driver to stop before his house; I don't want the sound to announce my presence. Rei seems uneasy about this, but I don't care. I want to feel, just for a moment, how he lives, truly lives, with this family of his. What is he like?

As I approach, I hear a shriek of laughter. Voices float out of the window, glass slightly ajar, fluttering in the summer breeze.

“Big brother! I think Emi really likes me, she came by again this afternoon!” the girl's voice is so different, affectionate, almost sweet.

“You mean after-?” the boys voice starts, but his sister cuts him off.

“She's really cute, and really fluffy!”

A laugh that could only be Makoto's follows, and I feel everything soften at the sound of it. I missed it so. I stop in front of the door, raising my fist.

“I still think she likes me best, Ran,” he laughs, and I can hear the clinking of cutlery and crockery. Having dinner? I pause.

“Nu uh! She likes me more!”

“Ran, stop jumping while you're eating,” a gentle voice admonishes, an older woman's voice. A huff follows.

“After what, Ren?” Makoto suddenly asks, “you said something earlier, did something happen today?”

“Young master,” comes Rei's whispered voice, “are you going to-?”

I knock, three times, my fist trembling, and I hear the talking abruptly stop.

“At this hour...?” says the older woman quietly, and I hear a chair scrape back.

The door swings open, and I find myself only centimetres from Makoto, his face suspicious and nervous.

His mouth opens in shock, eyes widening, and I too, find myself speechless. He smells of sawdust and smoke, and as I tear my eyes away from his, I see scrapes and cuts on his arms, see dust and dirt in the crevices of his skin. It cannot diffuse his light, however, and my heart beats painfully as I hear a “who is it?” from behind Makoto. More chairs move, and a little cry of disgust follows.

“What are _you_ doing here?” she hisses, clutching onto Makoto's leg. He looks down, before gently pulling her off.

“Ran, Ren, go eat with mother,” he says quietly, his face pulled into lines of worry, “go.”

He shuts the door behind him, if it wasn't for Rei, it would just be the two of us. I try to quell the excitement the thought creates.

“Why are you here?” he asks, voice still quiet, staring at his feet, “what more do you want?”

_I love you._

“I want... to offer you your job back,” I say, thickly, hating how untamed my emotions have become, “I am... truly sorry about what happened.”

I realise Makoto is looking at me again, _how I relish it!_ , but he looks... unhappy. He's frowning, as if trying to figure something out. He doesn't say anything at all.

“Are you going to... accept my offer?” I ask, and I don't think I can speak much more, lest my voice betray me. His emerald eyes suddenly gleam, and when he speaks, his voice quivers with upset.

“And then what?” he asks hopelessly, “what do you want from me? I can't give it to you, I can't go back and pretend nothing has changed-”

“I don't want you to _pretend_ -” but that is the wrong thing to say, as Rei makes a little noise of shock, and because now Makoto looks terrified, backing away slightly, trembling. I shake my head, reaching out a hand to soothe him, anything, I want him to be happy. He flinches violently when my fingers brush his arm.

“Please, just leave me alone!” he cries, and I stare helplessly as tears begin to form in his eyes. What do I have to do? My arm hangs in the air, and I'm seized by a terrible desire to simply drag him with me, but even as the idea crosses my mind, guilt follows, and my hand drops limply to my side.

“Master Na-” Rei starts, when a familiar, very unwelcome voice rings up the street.

“OI!”

Am I being punished for some unknown crime by a judicious, ruthless god? I can think of no other explanation when the very person I wanted to see least sprints up the street, a bag bouncing on his back, hair streaming as he flies towards us.

“You!” Rin bellows, skidding to a halt at the gate, hackles raised, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

To my surprise, it's Makoto that answers.

“He- he wants me to g-go back, and work for him,” Makoto whispers, “but I- I can't.”

Rin's eyes slide from Rei's uncomfortable face, to my glare, to Makoto's tears. Anger takes hold of his face, like wildfire, dancing in his eyes as he pushes past me. He puts a protective arm around Makoto's back, staring ferociously at us.

“Good fucking job, Nanase,” he snarls, “yeah, I really think you have Mako's best interests at heart.”

“Can we just go inside, Rin?” Makoto whispers, pressing his face into Rin's shoulder.

“Yeah,” Rin mutters, opening the door, throwing a glance back at us as they enter, “don't come back, _Master_ Nanase.”

With that, the door shuts.

I stare at the wood, my mind utterly blank. Whispered voices float towards me, but I can't hear them properly, everything is hazy, indistinct, distant.

I turn and stumble away, unable to see through a sheet of tears, my legs leaden and uncooperative. Rei's steady grip on my arm is probably the only reason I make it back to the coach, and I fall in a heap on the seat, I don't care, how could I?

I blindly stare out the window as we rattle home; my new estate, and Rei has to lead me to bed as well, bading me get some rest. I ignore him, fighting tears, the image of Makoto's anguished face in my vision.

As I lay in my cool blankets, I began to feel the most peculiar trembling within me. It seems to start from my stomach, arcing up through my chest, through my pounding heart, until my entire head is consumed with an all-consuming fury.

How dare he. _How dare he._

A confident, grinning face, with unnatural bright-red eyes, floats into my thoughts, and a surge of hatred, pure and undiluted, fills my heart and mind. I let out a hiss at the memories of his voice, laughing, teasing, low and comforting, and Makoto's smiles and laughs in reply. The memory of their kiss makes my teeth gnash; never have I hated anyone more, never have I ever fully appreciated the feeling of _hate._

It was unacceptable that he have Makoto. He did not deserve him, he was rough and loud and harsh, so abrasive, against Makoto's sweetness and softness. The hate gave way to the familiar ache in my chest, leaving me washed-out, lethargic. I frowned as I imagined him around saws and axes and heavy logs all day, always tired, always breathing in that choking sawdust.

Lumber mill...

I would pay far better than a mill. I would look after him, give him a job, food, a bed...

My bed, if he so wished.

I hissed, biting my lip, as heat pooled in my groin at the thought.

But Makoto would not leave the mill, not for me.

I would make him leave.

 

-

 

“Tachibana?”

The “office”, if it could even be called that, was just like the rest of this horrid mill, covered in a layer of fine dust and smelling of woodchips. It stuck in my nose, made my throat tickle. If this is how the manager worked, I shuddered at the conditions his staff would have to endure. Speaking of whom...

“Yes, Tachibana, Makoto Tachibana,” I said tersely, “you will remove him from your staff.”

The man sitting across from me frowns. Our tea remains untouched, but his fingers curl around his cup in thought. He taps it with a nail.

“Master Nanase, this is an... unusual request,” he said, finally, my patience nearing it's limit. He was looking at me warily, but coolly. I give him a dismissive wave.

“But a straightforward one,” I reply, sneering, “I don't see the problem.”

He leans back; his lip curls just a little, and I have a feeling he's just made up his mind. Eyes narrow, and his gaze is now one of frank dislike. It's probably the most common one I receive.

“Of course you don't, Master Nanase,” he says, tone thick with condescension, “but for a working man his job is his life, it's support for his family, just as yours supports you.”

What was it about me that made people think they could say whatever they wanted? He's the one to wave me, now.

“I've heard nothing but good things about Tachibana,” he says, “he's a hard worker, doesn't make trouble. It's a nice change from the pushy louts I usually put up with.”

The manager picks up his tea, drinking with apparent relish.

“That's all, Master Nanase, Tachibana stays,” and I get the impression he has just _dismissed_ me.

I stand up, sneering again.

“It would be wise to... reconsider,” I hiss, “I will be back.”

His eyebrows raise in amusement.

“You do that.”

I close his door with a little more force than necessary, and by the set of Rei's lips, I know my _handler, really,_ heard every last syllable. It is no surprise. I stalk past him without a word, and he follows silently, but disapproval is coming off him in waves as we exit the factory, past the lumber yards where men are shifting logs, debarking others.

“That was unnecessary, young master,” he says, in a very tight voice, “Tachibana does not deserve... I... don't know what you intend to come of this.”

I stop, even though we've had this argument before, because why didn't anyone _understand?_ Didn't other people feel this too, this feeling that drove me wild? That being away from him, the prospect of never being near him, almost drove me to mindlessness?

I was higher than him, in rank alone. His smile, his face, his warmth and kindness and selflessness, he was a superior person in every way. I already knew! But just as he had drawn me in, unknowingly, with himself, so too did I want to draw him to me. The things he enjoyed, my swimming, my art, my voice, I would lavish them all on him, every day, so he could not imagine life without them. And then maybe, one day, so that he could not imagine life without me.

My mind churns with the fantasies I have nurtured each and every day, of he and I, enveloping my every thought. How? How could I go on like this? Why couldn't they see it?

My fists clench.

I will give this place one more chance.

 

-

 

This was the consequence, I thought, this was the result of stubbornness. I warned him.

“Master Nanase,” Rei says as I settle down for breakfast, his face milky pale, putting a newspaper in front of me, “that mill... it burned down last night.”

I don't let emotions betray me, I am good at hiding them, but Rei knows, he knows everything I have a hand in. There is a grainy photograph of the mill ablaze on the front page, consumed in white flames, and a smaller one of the now jobless workers collecting in front of the burnt-out husk.

“Why?” he whispered, staring at me with newfound horror, “why, young master?”

I sip my tea, not meeting his eyes.

“He didn't belong there,” I finally say, putting down the cup. Rei shakes his head in disbelief.

“The owner is not a stupid man, he will... he will put the pieces together, young master,” Rei says, eyes wide, “he will know.”

I shrug, nibbling at my fish.

“I don't care, he can't prove a thing,” I reply, “I'm not an idiot Rei. I know he'll think it was me.”

“Tachibana is going to suffer, young-”

Rei jumps as I scrape my nails against the wood of the table, a wave of painful guilt and shame washing over me, followed by mindless desperation.

“I don't care, Rei,” I whisper, “I just want him to come back.”

“If- if you loved him, you would care, young master.”

I hiss, slamming the flat of my palm against the table, trying to take deep breaths. The cups and pot rattle as I shook violently, as I tried to ride out the warring shame and selfishness. But I was ultimately selfish. The shell of a lumber mill could attest to that.

“I do- I love him so much, Rei-!” I snarl, choking on my words, “I- I want to be the one to look after him, t-to make him happy, I want him to be happy-!”

My face and eyes burn, but there are no tears. Rei simply stands with his mouth open, I don't think I've ever been this agitated.

“And I know he doesn't love me,” I hiss, “I know, Rei, I know! But I'm... I'm fucking selfish.”

Rei sucks in a breath of shock.

“I want him with me, I'll do whatever I have to,” and I calm, feeling my heart find a steady rhythm as conviction surges through my veins, “I love him. I-I want to see him everyday, I want to see his face when I wake up, w-when I lie down to sleep... I want him smiling at me, laughing for me, Rei, I want him to be happy with me. I will do whatever it takes... to have him with me. Always.”

He's silent. His face is dumbstruck, eyes wide, rattled, and I can see... a little fearful. There;s a buzzing in my chest that feels almost satisfied; did he understand now? Just what I feel? That this yearning is somehow innately wrong, selfish... twisted. But it consumes me, it is me. Makoto is the only one to receive my gaze, to occupy my thoughts, to have my heart.

Makoto must always be by my side. It is the only way. The mere idea of never seeing him again sends me into dizzying desperation, sends me into throes of sorrow and fury, where I cannot even see or hear the world around me. I would not be able to live.

I bite my lip. Makoto would not wait; he would start looking for more work. I couldn't... let that happen.

“Rei, I'm going into town today.”

He looks at me, despair in every line of his face.

“Y-yes, Master Nanase.”

 

-

 

The weather is what I would call truly wild. Lightning flashing above, the branches of the trees whipped by the heavy winds, sheets of rain pounding the earth.

It's in this tumult that Makoto finally returns to me. I have the parlour curtains open, enjoying the storm, so wild and powerful and free, when I spot movement outside, amongst all the rain. A figure, trudging up the path, carrying something over one shoulder. My heart began to beat a little more quickly as they came closer, before I leapt to my feet in excitement.

Even shrouded in water, he is unmistakeable.

“Rei,” I say quietly, fighting to keep my voice under control, “the door.”

There is a light cautious knock, and it's a testament to Rei's self-control that he does not gasp aloud as he quickly moves to open it.

Makoto looks exhausted, absolutely sodden, his face almost sagging with fatigue. His eyes don't look up; instead staring at a spot on the floor.

“Tachibana?” Rei asks nervously, looking from him to me. I don't move from the parlour door; I'm surprisingly nervous as well.

He suddenly looks up and around, and my heart gives a violent jump as for a moment his eyes are locked on mine, before he sinks into a deep bow, water dripping onto the tiles.

“Master Nanase,” he says quietly; but I can hear every word, “please allow me to work for you again.”

Makoto straightens, and for an exciting moment I expect him to look at me again, but instead he fixes his gaze resolutely downward, unable or unwilling. Rei closes the door, before turning on his heel and stalking off.

“Of course, Makoto,” I say softly, biting at the other endearments on my tongue.

He bows to me again; I let the victorious roaring in my chest show for only a moment on my face, slipping on my mask as he rises.

“T-thankyou, Master Nanase,” he says in the quietest of voices.

Rei returns with a large towel, handing it to Makoto, who slips it around his shoulders. He dries his hair, leaving it tousled, and I ignore a strange curl in my stomach as he pushes his bangs back from his face.

“Makoto,” I say softly, “come here.”

I feel him shivering as I put a gentle hand on his wrist. I lead him to my quarters; he doesn't resist or object, following me along silently as we walk through the house.

My fireplace has been stoked, the room pleasantly warm from the chill outside. I steer Makoto towards it; bading he sit down. He does so, nervously, and as I watch his adam's apple bob, a droplet slides from his hair, down his neck, disappearing into the fabric of his shirt. His eyes are so so afraid. I take a deep breath to calm myself.

“It's alright, Makoto, it's alright,” I murmur, deciding that I shouldn't touch him so, not now, “I'm... happy you're here.”

“I've taken your possessions to the servant's quarters, you have a room to yourself there, I'll take you,” Rei says quietly, and Makoto nods, bowing to me again.

“Goodnight, young master,” he whispers, and I stare at his head, hands clenching at my sides.

“Goodnight, Makoto,” I whisper back.

 

-

 

I'm careful.

I tell the housekeeper that Makoto is to do the gardening, and for several weeks, I keep my distance, watching him from afar, pangs of nostalgia in my chest as I do so.

Rei is restless, and I wonder just how long he will stay by my side, hating everything I have done so far, clearly wondering what I plan to do.

He shouldn't be worried; I want to keep Makoto this time.

It starts with a request for him to bring me my midday lunch, before I ask him to join me. I let him ease into it, carefully, never letting him catch a stare, find a sketch or painting, no. Carefully.

My sweet, precious Makoto is nervous when I gift him books, but he liked it, didn't he? I remembered, he could read, he liked to read.

I start requesting for chocolate cakes and treats, to take with tea, I ask him to have breakfast with me, in the mornings, if he so wishes. And he begins to acquiesce, slowly, but surely, and I force my beating heart to calm whenever he sits near, whenever his eyes turn my way, or his voice form my title.

Soon, I will ask him to speak my name. My favourite name, just for him...

I paint for him, cook for him. I lure in the cats with milk and meat, delighting in the sight of him in the morning, fluffy animals curled up in his careful arms. He looks so happy when he nuzzles their noses, blush on his cheeks...

I slowly weave a new life for him, a new life for us.

My only problem is the wistful, unhappy stares into space that I catch too often. Eyes distant, staring into the sky, across the grounds, and I know it is because of Rin. He has not mentioned the redhead, but I can tell. I am so familiar with Makoto's face and body language, and I cannot think of anything else it could be.

It was Rin, the last catch in the future I was perfecting.

 

-

 

“Why are you still here?” I ask him; truly, I wish to know. Rei stands stiffly, lips thin. I shrug and lean back, gazing at the sparkling pond. I wanted to get the water just right, as if it were moving on the canvas. Another gift for Makoto. He must soon be finished in the gardens... surely. My eyes flick to the ramrod-straight stance of my handler.

“You must find me despicable,” I continue, dipping my brush carefully, a nice delicate yellow on the tip, “being privy to everything I've done?”

He swallows audibly.

“My family has served yours for generations,” he breathed, “and will continue to do so, young master.”

“My family has all but disowned me,” I reply, “if not for grandmother I would not even have this estate. To them I am not a Nanase. What say you to that?”

“They haven't, young master, they haven't, so I will remain.”

“Hmph. You didn't answer my other question. Do you find me cruel? Evil?”

His silence is all the answer I need. I didn't expect anything else, really.

I continue to paint, the only sounds the chirping of birds, and faint rustling in the trees. The smell of freshly cut grass fills the air; soon the flowers will be opening, the pollen on the wind. It will be truly beautiful in the gardens, the ones Makoto flits through, caring for them, reminding me of the forest nymphs from old storybooks; too gentle for the heavy world of humans.

A familiar impatience is welling in me, my hands twitch and my mind becomes unfocused.

I hear steps behind us, I put my palette and brush down, turning. I allow a small smile to form at the now-familiar _familiar!_ sight of Makoto walking from the main house, carrying a tray laden with food and a teapot and cups.

As he reaches us, he inclines his head slightly, unsmiling. He carefully puts the tray down and quickly unloads it.

“Rei,” I say, and Rei takes the tray from the table, “go have lunch.”

Makoto settles across from me; eyes still downcast, and I take the pot, pouring us tea. His hand is lying by his cup. I glance from it to his face, worried; today he is not even trying to smile, and that scares me more than the fake cheeriness he puts on for others' benefit.

“Mako?” I ask softly, laying my hand on his. His fingers twitch slightly, but he doesn't move his hand. He simply stares to the side, face utterly blank, eyes... empty.

“Makoto? What's wrong?”

I lean forward a little, feeling unfamiliar worry take my face. His eyes slowly meet mine; they're lifeless, devoid of warmth. I am suddenly seized by fear, what was wrong? Was he sick? Did a family member die?

I slide off my chair, skin buzzing, crouching by his side, hand pushing back the hair on his face. He flicked his eyes away, and suddenly they were swimming with tears, falling onto his thick lashes, sliding down his cheeks.

“Makoto?”

“Rin,” he choked, before he began to sob, “he's gone.”

Gone? Dead?

“Gone?” I echo, stroking his cheek, “what do you mean, Mako?”

“He left to be on a ship, he- he's gone, he's left me.”

Tears fall thick and fast, and through my own upset at seeing him so shaken, I feel an insidious, terrible tendril of victory around my heart. The last obstacle, gone.

“Makoto...”

He lets out a terrible, heart-rending cry, pressing his hands to his face as he weeps. He falls forward, onto his knees, letting out piercing keens as he curls into himself. My hands are everywhere, smoothing, caressing, soothing, anything to help him, to take him away from his pain. Rin caused this, but I also know it's my fault, too, that if I had just left him alone, he might be with Rin now.

Or would he?

It didn't matter, because he was here, with me.

“Makoto,” I whisper, “I'm here. I'm here, Mako, I'll never leave you, never. I love you, Mako.”

I say the words over and over, almost chanting them, weaving them into a prayer, for his ears alone. He continues to weep, rocking back and forth before I encircle him with my arms, holding him tightly to me. I don't know how long it takes him to finally calm down somewhat, his loud cries slowly turning into quiet whimpers, his breath from irregular to steady, his heart beating normally again.

“Master Nanase-” he hiccups, shaking, and I suck in my breath.

“Haru,” I say softly, tilting his face upward, “please, call me Haru.”

He blinks, and a few last tears streak his cheeks.

“Haru...” he whispers, a shaky sigh expelling from his lips.

I draw his head to my shoulder, kissing it gently, murmuring into his hair. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he frees his arms, and wraps them around my back, leaning into me.

“Makoto,” I breathe, “Makoto...”

Wild happiness courses through me, savage and bright, and I feel a vindictive smile stretch my lips as I realise Rin cast himself off, the fool, the ungrateful bastard. Makoto's face remains on my shoulder, and the rise and fall of his own is steady.

I am glad he cannot see my face, my terrible grin as I adore the pain that brought him to me.

I look up to Rei, staring at us both, and he does not bother to hide his disgust.

 

-

 

“Haru?”

I glance up from the water; Makoto is standing by the edge of the tub, holding an armful of fluffy towels, eyes modestly lowered.

“You've been in there.. quite some time, I don't want you to get a cold,” he murmurs, and I smile.

“Looking after me sick would be even more frustrating, wouldn't it?” I joke, taking a towel as I step out of the tub. My stiff humour is rewarded with a small smile, though his eyes are still turned away, and I feel a twinge of embarrassment at my slight, plain body, wrapping the towel around my chest.

“Summer will be here soon, I know how annoyed you be to be stuck in bed with all of those swimming opportunities just outside, Haru.”

“Hmm,” I say, walking to a small pile of folded clothes resting on a chair, “I suppose I would be.”

I dress quickly, but my hand lingers over the buttons of my shirt, running my tongue across my lips at the thought of Makoto undoing them, slowly and deliberately, hands trailing along my belt...

“Are you alright, Haru?” Makoto asks nervously, and I smooth my hands over my clothes. No physical reaction this time, good.

“I'm fine, Makoto,” I murmur, turning and smiling at the sight of his tilted head, soft-eyed, just like a puppy.

Grandmother was visiting today, and I had not seen Makoto so nervous for a long time. He did not know her yet, but she would love him. Everyone did.

“Ah! Your hair is still a little wet, Haru,” Makoto groans, drying the tips with a small handtowel. Tiny spots ring my collar, but I am not too worried, it's just water. I'm more interested in the care Makoto is taking to dry and smooth my hair, enjoying the sensation.

“Grandmother will not care,” I say, gazing at the reflection as Makoto fusses, and I reach up to lay a hand on his neck.

“She wants to meet you,” I murmur, stroking with a finger, and he sighs, clasping his hand on mine, leaning forward a little.

“I wondered if she did...” he says quietly, and I meet his eyes in the mirror; so anxious.

“It's alright, she's going to love you,” I say soothingly, but he doesn't look convinced, dropping his gaze to the floor. I turn, and gently brush his hair from his slightly furrowed brows.

“She.. she knows how important you are to me, Makoto,” I say quietly, and he gives me a shaky smile, a blush spreading on his cheeks, before bading I have my shoes shined with a little exclamation.

I suppress my delight at his attention all morning, but I can't help but smile every time I think of his shyly blushing face, his bashful smiles. Oh, I love them.

My heart soars when my Grandmother's carriage finally trundles up the drive, and I have the two I love under one roof, at last.

“Good morning, Grandmother,” I say, taking her arm from her attendant, another Ryugazaki that has Rei's eyes. She gives me a soft smile, barely leaning on me, still strong for her age. Her hair is like starlight, beautiful shimmery white, and the eyes that move my way could be my own.

“Was the trip comfortable?” I ask, leading her to the parlour, and she hums.

“As it could be, I suppose, my Haruka,” she says in her clear voice, “Kimiko is ever so careful, I'm grateful to her. She puts up with me.”

“I wouldn't term it “putting up with”, madam,” Ryugazaki murmurs, but she smiles, and Grandmother waves her other hand.

“Go see your nephew!” she says with a laugh, “I'll be fine.”

The door to the parlour is open, but it is empty. My eyes flick around for Makoto as I sit Grandmother in the best armchair, and it is not lost on her. Few things rarely are.

“You look well, Haruka, a lot more... open,” she muses, smiling up at me, “there's more light on you than I remember.”

What that meant, I wasn't entirely sure.

“I am feeling... better,” I reply, not sitting down; continuing to glace at the door that lead to the kitchens.

“You've never made that expression before,” Grandmother says, and I tear my gaze from the still door to her face. She looks pleased.

“What do you mean?”

“Hmm... excited, anxious, shy, whatever the combination of those three is,” she replies, “you've never looked... nervous before, my dear.”

I don't know what to say to that, but I'm saved the trouble, as Makoto chooses this moment to swing the door open, carrying a fine silver tray. He stops as he notices us, flushing, then bowing awkwardly in grandmother's direction.

“G-good day, Lady Nanase,” he stammers, and I quickly look from his pink face to grandmother's gently smiling one. She catches my eye and winks.

I feel myself go red, too, and can do nothing but watch as Makoto shakily walks over and puts the tray on the table.

“Good morning, Tachibana,” she replies, and I see a sparkle in her eyes as she holds out a slender hand. Makoto seems confused, before taking it carefully in one of his huge hands, kissing it.

As he is doing so she winks, again.

I am going to die of embarrassment.

“Please, sit with us, or with me, as Haruka seems fine standing next to perfectly good seating,” she says jokingly, and Makoto nervously sits across from her. I resist the urge to take his hand, feeling suddenly self-conscious. I cared of the opinion of very few people, and both of them were in this room.

“Would you like some tea, Lady Nanase?” Makoto asks, his voice sweet but shaky.  
  
“I would, thankyou,” she replies, “may I call you Makoto?”

“Oh, of course, if you'd like...”

I listen, heart bursting with tenderness, watching them talk and laugh. When they smile and speak my way, I find myself so easily smiling back; it's perfect.

Makoto excuses himself to clear the table, leaving Grandmother and I alone. Her eyes twinkle as she watches him leave, smiling softly at me.

“He's so... sweet, so kind, just lovely,” Grandmother says, her face suffused with warmth, “I can see why you're taken with him.”

“I really... do love him, Grandmother,” I murmur, looking away, but when I glance back to her, she's smiling gently.

“I know you do, Haruka,” and my heart swells with affection, only to drop at her next words, “but I don't think he feels the same.”

She says it without malice, carefully, honestly.

“I- I want him to,” I say softly, “he's... oh, Grandmother, he was in love with someone else. But they left him behind...”

She looks at me thoughtfully, gently, and leans forward to put a hand on my cheek. It trembles at her touch.

“Time, my Haruka,” Grandmother murmurs, “give it time. His wounds will heal, and his heart will open again.”

I nod, but a tendril of uncertainty wraps around my heart.

Ships come back to port.

 

-

 

I shouldn't be looking. I shouldn't even be here.

The servant's quarters are empty, most already busy in the kitchens or the grounds, and I find myself standing in Makoto's room, quite unsure what I hope to achieve. There is a small desk, covered in books and paper; letters, I realise, when I look a bit more closely.

I pick one up, guiltily opening it. But I'm curious. The letters, how many people could they be from, really?

 

_Dear Mako,_

 

_I say it in every letter, but I wish you were here. I miss you so much. We have stopped at a port to the south; it's very hot here, but the plants and people are amazing, and I have seen animals in cages at a circus, strange huge cats that look so vicious; but I have never met a cat that wouldn't love you, Makoto. You should see them next time! I have heard so many different languages Makoto, but these have to be the strangest, it almost sounds as if the people are singing as they speak. I think you would enjoy it very much. To think, we spent days and days trying to learn to read and write our own tongue, when so many more exist. I wish I could converse properly with these people, but I get frustrated too easily. Their drink is excellent, also, I would bring some back, but it will most likely go missing during the long evenings at sea._

 

_Please, my love, leave that place, you shouldn't be there. I know you think it was impossible, but Mako, so soon after he started chasing you again, you lose your job? And can't find another one? That mill didn't burn down during the day, it burned during the night. Someone lit that fire, Makoto. You may try to find the good in all, but what good is it to talk about his so-called warmth when the only person he shows it to is you? He doesn't care about anyone but himself, not even you, Makoto._

 

_The ship will come back one day, please, come with me when it does. You don't have to stay there, Nanase is insane, Makoto, and all he does is hurt you._

 

_Please, my love, I miss you,_

_Rin_

 

I resist the powerful urge to crumple up the page, find all the letters with Rin's name on them, and throw them into the nearest fire. I put it shakily down where I found it, and a quick glance at the rest of them confirms my fears.

 

_Huge black-and-white creatures were surfacing close to the ship, I saw little ones with them and thought of you and your siblings. The other crewmembers called them “killer whales”; they seemed too majestic to be called killers._

 

_Makoto, I know you don't like talking about it, but he's obsessed with you, staying with him just makes it worse. Obsession is not too strong a word, Mako, he visited you in the middle of the night and burned down that mill, weeks and weeks after you were fired. He is unhealthy._

 

_I'm sorry I left you behind, Makoto, I was only thinking of myself, I'm so sorry. Please don't think I don't love you, Mako, please. I think of you every day._

 

With a jolt, I spot a half-finished letter in the middle of it all, picking it up with trembling fingers.

 

_Dearest Rin,_

 

_I think the blue creatures you saw were not “ship fish” but dolphins, I read about them in a book here. To think such things live so close to our coasts! I wish I could see them too, perhaps one day when I go to the sea._

 

_You know I cannot leave, Rin. It's not me I'm worried about, but my family, I'm scared, Rin. He scares me to death._

 

I stare at the last words, shaking.

Scared?

Makoto... was afraid of me? Afraid?

My entire world spins away, and I clutch at his chair as I hunch over, gasping. Was it an act? All an act? Was he just trying to please me, to protect his family? Did he... care for me at all?

My breaths come quickly and shallowly, chest heaving. It could not be true, not my Makoto, my beloved Makoto.

My mind ticks over and my heart turns to ice as I read the first letter again.

_The ship will come back one day, please, come with me when it does._

One day...

I swallow thickly, putting the paper where I found it.

Makoto says nothing about the letters, but as I watch him, I finally begin to notice. Little ticks of his eyelids, twitching of fingers, an unhappy sigh when he thinks I am not listening.

I do not question him, I make no indication I know anything at all, but my despair turns to strong unease as he suddenly goes from nervous and shy, to downright jittery, dropping teacups, grip weakening on his tools. He earns several long scratches from his favourite cat, trying to wave it off, saying he squeezed her a little too hard.

Grandmother's visit was only weeks ago, but my contentedness and surety seems worlds away, almost naïve in my old hope. Makoto had other plans in mind, away from here, away from _me._

I must know.

 

-

 

Makoto is asleep, deep in sleep as I creep into his room, and I pick the top letter off the pile, hands trembling.

 

_Dearest Makoto,_

 

_You expressed your worry about the arrangements, but please, be calm. Your family will be safe there, Sousuke is one of my closest friends, we want to help you, please, write to your family, tell them to prepare themselves. Important possessions, clothes, anything you can all carry, and we'll go. I am happy to do it, I want to do it, please, trust me._

 

_I wish I could write more but there is little time. My ship is due to arrive on the 14 th, I will meet you at your home as soon as I possibly can, make sure you're there. Ask for leave, make an excuse, run away in the night if you must, but be there. _

 

_I love you, remember, the 14 th, be gone by the 14th._

_Love, Rin._

 

I am rooted to the spot, eyes staring at the traitorous words. My eyes drop to crumpled paper in the wastebin, and in a frenzy I seize them, opening them. Drafts upon drafts of Makoto's unease, doubt, unwillingness to go along with the plan, but nowhere does he mention not wanting to leave. Sorrow courses through me, tinged and poisoned with anger, jealousy. Rin was going to take him away, no, Makoto was going to leave, go where I could not follow...

I swallow, vision swimming, and crumple Rin's letter in my hand, unable to look at it any longer.

I stalk through the halls, back to my room, and watch his words burn, the paper disappearing to the flames.

I breathe, hard, staring at the blazing logs, hands curled into fists.

I was prepared for this. I never wanted to do this, but there was no other way.

Morning comes; I have been staring at the ceiling all night, plans turning over in my head. Before dawn peers over the horizon, I am rolling out of the covers, hands shaking as I button a navy blue shirt. The boy staring back at me in the mirror is a mask of determination, and I smooth my hair around my eyes, blazing blue with resolution.

Quiet, odd, contrary, unreasonable. I knew what others thought when they looked at me, and I realised long ago it didn't matter.

I was going to keep my own, that's all that mattered.

The table is set as usual for breakfast, but I ask the servants to hold the tea; I would be getting it this morning. They do not question. My entire being trembles with anticipation.

Makoto is sleepy-eyed as usual, forever the night owl, but he stops as he walks into my room, head tilting. Can he read me that well? Has he already sensed something wrong? But he smiles, greeting me with a bow, and pulls out my chair as he always does.

“Oh,” he says, yawning as I butter some toast, “they've forgotten the tea. I'll-”

I shoot upwards, shaking my head. He pauses, halfway out of his chair, confused expression on his face.

“I'll fetch it, Makoto, please, eat something.”

The pot and cups are in the kitchen, but no one is around as I stir powder into the boiling water, watching it dissolve, slowing my breathing. Soon.

Makoto smiles as I enter, and accepts a cup, murmuring his thanks. I settle across from him, and pretend to take a sip.

“How are you this morning, Haru? Forgive me, but you seem... distant.”

His eyes soften as he looks at me, and if it weren't for his impending betrayal, I would melt at the sight.

“It's... ah...”

Makoto's smile fades, and he doesn't miss my intense stare, watching his adam's apple bob as he drains his cup.

“Haru...?”

“More tea?” I ask instead, lifting the teapot, and he nods uncertainly.

“Thank you, Haru...” he murmurs, before tilting his head, looking worried, “what is it? Are you troubled?”

I take another pretend sip, and Makoto copies me unconsciously.

“Yes, Makoto, I am,” I say softly. He frowns.

“What's wrong?”

“You were going to ask me for leave,” I say, viciously relishing the way his eyes widen in shock, “weren't you?”

He trembles, mouth opening and closing. Any minute now...

“I- how did you?”

“And you were going to run away with Rin.”

His face is one of pure disbelief, before an expression of realisation dawns.

“My letters,” he whispers, “you read my letters.”

I stare back, unforgiving. He starts to visibly shake.

“Please, Haru, it was his idea, I...”

“But you're not leaving, my Mako, it's alright,” I say, smiling at the way his eyelids begin to droop, fear racing over his features. I tip my tea into the water jug, standing, and his mouth opens in horror.

He tries to stand up, but staggers, and would have fallen if not for my quick arms, catching him as his muscles stop working, body going limp.

“No, nooo,” he slurs, “Haahruu...”

I sit him onto an armchair, fetching the set of restraints; brand-new cuffs and chains and collars, all for him.

Footsteps sound down the hall, neat, ordered little steps, and I sigh. This was either going to go poorly or very poorly.

“Master Haru... ka?”

I carefully fit the cuffs around Makoto's wrists, making sure they are not too tight. I dab at his lip; his relaxed mouth is causing him to drool down his chin.

“Makoto will have the guest room next to mine from now on,” I say quietly, slowly straightening to meet Rei's gaze. It's as horrified as I expected, but I bore into him, daring him to do something about it.

“N-no,” Rei whispers, “I can't, you can't- do this.”

“The bed has already been made, but if you would assist moving his possessions into it I would be grateful,” I continue, grabbing the cuffs for his ankles. Rei seems torn between running away and moving forward to free Makoto.

“This is... madness, Master Nanase,” he says, stepping forward; a man of courage, I had to admit, “let Tachibana go.”

I settle Makoto's limbs as I sit him upright, smoothing back his hair, sighing, putting the keyring into my pocket.

“This is the only way,” I say quietly, keeping a hand on Makoto's shoulder, “I wish more than anyone that it didn't have to be.”

“You can't make him love you!” Rei says, voice cracking, “please, Haruka, see reason, I don't understand why you're doing-”

“You're right,” I whisper, moving toward him, “I can't make him love me. _But I can make him stay.”_

His eyes widen in pure horror as I put my face into his, and the fear in his eyes I expected, the disgust.

I did not expect him to shove me backwards, hand scrabbling down the front of my pants, pulling out the keys. I scream as he pushes me away, as he grabs Makoto, heaving him upwards; I underestimated his strength. But he underestimated my resolve.

Rei freezes as I plunge the knife into his chest, mouth opening in shock, violet eyes widening, and I yank the blade out, letting him tumble to the floor, heart jumping as Makoto lands heavily beside him.

My former assistant makes choking sounds as I hurriedly check Makoto for injuries; he seems fine, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Blood is all over the floor, all over my carpet, and Rei is struggling to get up as I put a foot on his back, forcing him to stay flat.

“Why, why? Master Haruka... why?”

“I've told you, time and time again,” I hiss, turning him over with my foot. He's paper white, blood oozing from his chest, and my blood roars as I straddle him.

“I can't live without him.”

I make it quick, for the sake of his loyalty, and wrap his body in a canvas sheet, dragging it into the disused cellar.

I lock my door; the servants can clear up later, changing my clothes from the bloodstained ones into a soft blue shirt, light grey pants. Makoto begins to stir as I move to the bathroom, intent on cleaning my arms before he comes to.

I wipe my hands, trembling with exhilaration, watching the blood wash away down the stark white sink, before moving back into my rooms. Rei's blood will no doubt be a permanent stain, but I don't mind.

Makoto doesn't move as I approach, but I watch his toes curl slightly as I crouch next to him, hand reaching out to caress his hair.

“My love?”

He lets out a sob, burrowing into the softness of the lounge, arms and legs shackled, mouth gagged. I let his hair fall through my fingers, sighing.

“Dearest, please don't be frightened,” I murmur, kissing him on the head, breathing in his scent, “it's alright. I'm not going to hurt you.”

He's been crying, and tears continue to pour down his face as I kiss his cheeks, but no amount of hair-stroking or cooing seems to work. I settle for wrapping my arms around him, tucking his head under my chin, whispering soft reassurances into his ear.

“We will be happy, Makoto, so happy together, I love you, I love you... I always will.”

He can't respond, still silenced, but I continue to talk, smelling his hair, feeling the beating of his heart, and watching the blood dry on the carpet.

 

-

 

“Haru... please...”

I bite my lip as Makoto's moans become ever more piteous and pleading, quiet, but I can hear every word.

“You haven't touched your food,” I say in response, unable to meet his eyes, keeping my stare fixed on his plate instead. I don't want to see his unhappy expression.

“I'm not hungry, Haru.”

My cutlery slips out of my grip as I finally glance up, and the face looking back at me is so tired, to my displeasure, slightly fearful.

His hands rest on the table on either side of his full plate, and I bite harder as he holds my gaze, while dragging his wrists towards me, letting the cuffs around them pull at the cloth. His voice trembles as he speaks.

“Please, Haru, take them off.”

Anger, disproportionate to his request, flares in my chest, followed by a sudden realisation that this is what his dear Makoto is afraid of. But I knew why I was angry. Makoto wanted to leave, he would leave at the first chance he received; he didn't love me. He would never love me the way I wanted him to. Never love me the way I loved him.

_Never._

“Stop asking,” I snap, unable to hold back the self-loathing welling within me, “and eat something.”

His eyes shift away, sorrowful, but he doesn't move.

“You didn't eat anything at all today, you're hungry. Why are you doing this?” I ask, but there is an undercurrent of fear there, too. What if he stops eating altogether? Will I have to force him? I feel at my limit already,

“Take them off, and I'll eat,” Makoto says, softly, lifting them towards me. My lip curls, and I take his hands, and watch the flash of hope in his eyes dashed as I shape his fingers around silverware.

“I told you to _stop asking._ ”

An uneasy feeling settles in my gut as he nods slowly, closing his mouth.

A scant half-hour later is when I realise he refuses to open it again, simply pressing his lips together as I try to coax hot chocolate into him.

“Makoto, this is childish.”

He says nothing in reply, and I tip the liquid into a nearby pot plant, putting the now-empty mug in front of him. Green eyes, their depths seeming to dance in the firelight, don't leave my face. He lifts his still bound wrists to me, and shuffles his cuffed feet.

I say nothing, grabbing him by the arm and leading him to his bed. He will tire of this, he will get too hungry and thirsty, even childish rebellion will not win against base needs.

I frown as he curls up on top of the covers, refusing to move.

“Tell me when you're ready to stop acting this way, Makoto,” I mutter, fitting the collar chain to the bedpost, trying to kiss his cheek goodnight. But he rolls away, and I huff, locking the door behind me, certain that once his hunger becomes painful, he will drop it.

But in the daylight, when I enter his room with a soft “good morning”, he is lying still, staring at the roof, not even looking at me.

I put new clothes on the dresser, and he looks at them with a flicker of hope.

“I'll take them off in a moment,” I say, very quietly, before grabbing his arm and pinning it to the bed. He jerks and cries out as I inject the sedative into his arm, and I swab the spot as he goes limp, eyes blinking so slowly at me.

My heart pounds as I uncuff him, breath catching in my throat as I unbutton his shirt, sliding it off. All of my observation, and yet I had never seen him like this, never bare.

Quickly, breathlessly, I remove his belt and pants, and step back, drinking him in.

He's beautiful, as well-built as I had believed, my hands pressing into his hard stomach and chest, setting off a dizzying whirl of excitement in my belly. Tanned skin, powerful body, lovely face...

Soft, almost silent noises are coming from his throat, distressed. I bite my tongue, ignoring them as my fingers trail from collarbone to hip, before coming to rest at his undergarments, shaking with anticipation. I hook my hands under his arms, and with great difficulty I drag him to the bathroom, pausing in front of the bath.

With quivering fingers, I ease off the last of his clothing, and a surge of heat races from my brain to my crotch as- ah, it's so big.

I'm seized by the desire to touch it, stroke it, take it in my mouth, and have Makoto do the same to me; the thoughts make my head spin, and I feel a familiar tightness in my pants as I lift him into the bath.

Tomorrow, I will sit him here first, then sedate him.

“Mako... you're so beautiful Mako...” I croon to him, as I finally am able to explore him fully, letting the water rise around him, cleaning him with soap and cloth. I want him to be at ease, I don't want to use drugs forever...

Rivulets run in enticing trickles down his skin, moving over the relaxed muscle just under it, and I resist the urge to lick it from him.

I stroke his hair comfortingly as I wash his neck and face carefully, minding the suds don't get in his eyes or mouth, and the sounds continue to issue from his mouth. He remains limp, however, lying in the water, legs just a bit too long for the bath.

_Myself, settling against his lap, resting against his chest as we are enclosed by the water, warm-_

I shake the fantasy from my mind. They keep occurring, all the time. It seems the closer I get to him, the worse it gets. My desires scare me sometimes; the last thing I want is to hurt Makoto, but I have had to do so already, so much.

 

-

 

“URRK, ARGH, HARU!”

His screams sound throughout the room as he struggles, fighting to get away as I pull him by the collar; it's cuts into his neck distressingly, cutting off his air, but he isn't co-operating, trying to scrabble at the ground with covered hands, knees scraping as they try to find traction. But he is weakened by his rejection of food, water, and collapses, panting on the floor as I continue to drag him into the bathroom.

“Makoto, my Mako, my beloved, please,” I whisper, breathing in the scent of his hair, hating the tears on his cheeks, “why are you doing this? Why do you fight me so?”

“Master Haruka, please, let me go, let me go...” he sobs, “I won't tell anyone, I promise, please, just let me go!”

“I can't _, I can't!”_ I cry, my voice pitching in my sorrow, “you'll leave me forever, Makoto! I could not live, not without you!”

I grip him, grabbing as much of him as I can in my embrace, tears rolling down my cheeks as my heart pounds with love and desperation and self-loathing. He shakes and sobs against me, because of me, and I can feel every fibre of my heart tearing for his pain, his sadness.

But he cannot leave.

I inject the liquid into him again, and his trembling stops, his entire body slouching in my arms. We sit there, on the cold bathroom tile, as I weep, rocking back and forth, kissing his neck, his face, his hair.

My heart aches; how much I want for him to put his arms around me, comfort me. The pain will never go away, I realise, I will live with it forever. I ruined everything with my rushed confession.

I want to scream at the lost opportunity, mourning a doomed future, and I clutch at his warm body, unable to stand the pain.

But Makoto loved Rin, didn't he?

He was never going to be with me by choice.

My breathing starts to calm; there was no other way.

_There's no other way, there's no other way, there's no other way, there's no other way, there's no other way, there's no other way, there's no other way, there's no other way, there's no other way, there's no other way, there's no other way, there's no other way, there's no other way, there's no other way._

I repeat it to myself, over and over, as I move through the day, trying to feed him, clothe him, speak to him, comfort him.

He fights me at every turn; no longer with struggles but with pleading, his great eyes constantly full of tears, and my heart rends open at every _“please, Haru.”_

But I will endure it for him.

 

-

 

My eyes fly open. I had not really been asleep, no, how could I sleep? It was the 14th. Makoto had cried with even greater fervour today, again refusing food and water, curling up on the floor, unmoving but for the shaking of his shoulders.

But I could hear his voice, so very softly, at the edges of my vision, at this hour of the night. That was strange.

My stomach drops, insides tightening as I hear careful footsteps in the hall; it will not be a servant, they will be asleep, and it couldn't be Makoto, for they were coming this way.

I stay still as a statue as the door squeaks open, heart thundering with fear. I hurriedly shut my right eye, left pressed into the pillow, able to see a strip out. The figure is very quiet, and I see pale hands in the gloom carefully moving items on the dresser. They make a tiny noise of frustration, before they move around the bed, clearly looking for something.

The beating of my heart ceases as I hear the telltale jingle of my keyring, all of the keys to Makoto's restraints, and I sit up, eyes flying open as my hand gropes for my knife.

And Rin punches me in the face.

I am momentarily stunned, and he takes that moment to race out of the room, but my focus comes back with a vengeance, and I take the knife from my bedside, vision red.

All bets are off.

I catch him as he is closing the door, knocking him to the floor with a snarl, driving my knife as hard as I can into his hand. It's not enough to seriously hurt him, but his fingers jerk in response, letting go, and I snatch the keys from the floor, shoving them into my pocket.

Makoto is screaming for us to stop as I dodge one of Rin's punches, slashing wildly at him. He moves quickly, hitting at my flailing arm, and I stumble backwards, feet unable to support me. He seizes the front of my shirt, bodily heaving me around, spitting; this is zero-sum for the both of us.

I am thrown over the lounge, my back slamming painfully into the coffee table, and I barely have time to move as Rin leaps over it, snarling, chest heaving.

“How could you, how could you?!” he shrieks, throwing another punch. I dart out of it's trajectory, but he kicks me as I move, booted foot connecting with my knee, and I cry out as it explodes with pain, falling into a heap on the floor. Rin's hands are at my waist, pulling away as I struggle, _no, not the keys,_ _MAKOTO._

I can hear him sobbing, crying out Rin's name in a desperate voice, and when I glance at him, I see his face is full of desperate love.

Rin kicks me in the stomach as he stands, jingling ring in his hand, and I retch, spots smattering

across my vision, watching him running over to the bed in my periperals, keys in hand.

_No, no, he can't, he can't-_

“Makoto!” I rasp, struggling to get up. My leg is barely working, the right side of my face aching, my stomach sore, but I will bear it.

“Rin, oh god, Rin, thank god, thank god!” Makoto is crying, as his handcuffs come off.

“Stop moving!” Rin whispers, fumbling with the next set of keys, the ones for his feet, and after those only the collar will be left.

I cast around desperately, trying not to throw up, wondering how I could possibly overpower him; Rin is stronger, tougher in a fair fight- but I don't have to play fair.

I stagger upright, hand curling around one of the brass candlesticks, and Makoto looks up as I swing it towards them, aiming for Rin's head.

The candlestick is heavy, good.

“RIN!” Makoto shrieks, diving to push him out of the way, but the brass is already there, connecting with the side of Rin's face. He screams, dropping the keyring, and I snatch it up, tossing it to the other side of the room. I grab the writhing man on the floor, ignoring Makoto's pleas for mercy.

I drag Rin away from him, away from the keening Makoto, and my heart surges with excitement and hatred.

“Haru! Please, don't! Don't! Haru!”

I raise the the candlestick high, arm quivering with the effort, and bring it down on his face, and when I pull away, my pulse quickens at the sight of his blood, a different red to his hair, spilling from his mouth and nose.

“Ma-ko-to,” he gurgles, “Mako... to.”

“Rin! Oh god, Haru, don't, no more! Please! No more! Please, stop!”

He's on his stomach, pitifully trying to reach Rin, hands reaching for him, tears streaming down his face.

I scream, bringing it to his right cheek, then his left, then the top of his head, relishing the caving of his skull.

“RIN!” Makoto howls, “RIN!”

Sounds blend, Makoto's shrieking and my own screams, colours bleeding away until there is only red, red, _RED_.

I do not stop, not until his face is unrecognisable, mush, the brass pounding it away into nothing, the welcome smell of blood on the air. For awhile, I hear nothing but the victorious beating of my heart, the pain in my body forgotten.

Slowly, as I come to, I begin to again understand Makoto's cries.

And my thundering heart is torn from my chest, tossed on the floor, and ripped apart.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! HOW COULD YOU?!” Makoto bellows, face contorted with pain, his eyes nothing like I have ever seen, blazing with pure, unadulterated hatred, “I HATE YOU, HARU! I'LL NEVER LOVE YOU! NEVER!”

He screams it, over and over, until the breath is pushed out of his lungs, and starts anew, body arching and twisting, as if trying to force all of his hate out at once, to hurt me the most. Spittle flies from his lips, teeth bared, and he doesn't stop howling.

“ _I HATE YOU, HARU!”_

“I know.”

I stand, my body trembling. My heart is in pieces in his mouth, ground between his teeth, it's blood coating his throat.

“I know, Makoto,” I repeat, standing over him, hands still holding the candlestick. I would not wash it; I will leave it by our bedside. He will hate me, no matter what, but I will remind him that Rin is gone forever. Gone. Only I will love him.

I fetch the sedatives, turning them in my hand, my movements casual, unhurried. Oh, we have all the time we need, Makoto.

“I know, my beloved, my dearest one, my heart, I know you'll never love me,” I say softly, feeling him go limp, pressing my lips to his unresponsive ones.

“But you're here, my Mako, oh, my only love, Makoto...”

I kiss him, sighing, and I feel a small smile on my face as I stand, hands curling around his collar chain.

“You're here.”

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to veer into total yandere territory but it happened and that's what it is.   
> Finishing and editing this thing almost killed me. Three and a half hours to tidy it up, what a monster.
> 
> never doing that to myself again aha
> 
> therewillbecubes.tumblr.com, I would be stoked if I got prompts or something C:

**Author's Note:**

> therewillbecubes.tumblr.com for free! spam  
> I'm also going to be posting my shorter drabbles there from now on, posted one a few days ago actually. I think I tagged it.


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